The Chip
by treacle-antlers
Summary: Isn't a vampire entitled to a few secrets? Buffy doesn't think so.


**The Chip  
****treacle antlers  
**  


  
So he's all like...'don't mess with me bitch!' And I'm like honey...you don't even know **who** you're messing with' and he's all yeah, you think you're all that? Bring it on!' and I get in real close..O.K...and I say...  
  
She paused for breath for a second, half laughing already, ready to lay the punchline on him, and then his expression just took the words from her.   
  
That had been happening a lot lately. She'd turn to speak to him, to say something snarky, ask him a dumb question, and she'd freeze. His face, always so easy to read before, was different now. An animation of interest and delight as he listened to her talk, about her day, about Dawn, about any damn thing. A soft glow in his bluer-than-blue eyes, and a smile that was a mysterious blend of tenderness and amusement. She frowned. He'd always been a complex character, but now when she looked at him, it was like seeing the pages of a book turn, so fast she couldn't even begin to read the words. She didn't think she'd ever get used to it.  
  
Pacing alongside her silently, her grocery bags held against his chest, he bumped against her hip gently, almost playfully.  
  
..and you said what? C'mon, lets hear it!   
  
And then sometimes she thought she could. Sometimes this almost seemed...normal. He seemed normal. And sometimes they'd do stuff like this. Run into one another at the Circle-K. Greet each other with an almost casual Hey', eyes meeting over the hair-care products, a moment of embarrassed amusement before one of them broke the silence with the mandatory quip. And then, after he'd waited for her outside, he'd offer to help carry her groceries back. No big deal, because, hey...actually he had an hour or so spare.   
  
And it was like they were friends.   
  
She smiled, hefting her bag a little higher to hide her mouth. Friends. Yeah, she supposed they were.  
  
It doesn't matter..."  
  
she shrugged,  
  
"Guess you really had to be there.  
  
He kept pace with her easily, never forcing her to go faster than she wanted to, even though she knew it was difficult for him sometimes. His legs were longer than hers. Not much longer, he wasn't what you'd call imposing, but he was taller than her, by almost a head. She knew that, because she still remembered how it felt to be held against his chest, his chin just resting on her forehead. Tall enough to feel like he was bigger than her, that she was small and feminine, but still short enough to find his lips with just a tilt of her head. She watched his legs for a long moment, seeing how he shortened his much longer stride to match her own, and shook her head slightly.  
  
  
  
She started, knowing her face must look guilty. Thinking about the length of his legs? Did that count as lechery?  
  
I didn't say anything.  
  
He raised an eyebrow, slowing his pace a little more,  
  
I know that. What were you going to say?  
  
Nothing! I was...hey...look out, the...ah...the marinara sauce is coming through the bottom there.  
  
He glowered, not even looking,  
  
"I double-bagged. What were you going to say?"  
  
And he was still as dogmatic as ever, unable to let her get away with even the smallest diversionary tactic. She resisted the impulse to roll her eyes at him, something that seemed a relic of the period B.S; or Before-Soul as Dawn now liked to refer to it.  
  
"Nothing. I was...it was nothing."  
  
She rolled the bag up under her left shoulder,  
  
"I was just thinking...I mean...I was wondering, whether it's getting...any easier for you. I mean...less hard."  
  
That hadn't come out quite as she had meant it, and she shut her mouth again firmly with a snap, a little colour rising to her cheeks. What she was forgetting, of course, was that this was now A.S: Spike's brain still received the double-entendres, it just chose not to process them. A soft sigh, and he paused, setting the bags down on the sidewalk for a moment while he searched his pockets for his cigarettes. Placed one in his mouth and, lighting it, inhaled deeply and reflexively. Watching the smoke wreath around them in the darkness, Buffy wondered idly whether smoking was fun. Somehow, Spike always made it look like a whole lot of fun. Frowning, he picked up the bags and started off again.  
  
"And why do you ask?"  
  
He sounded a little pissed, just at the edge of pissed, and she darted a look at him to confirm. Yep, there it was. The patented Spike 'Frown of Restrained Irritation'. An expression almost entirely reserved for conversations with her. She decided to go with honesty.  
  
"Because you never say...."  
  
she hesitated,  
  
"...and I thought I should know."  
  
Somehow, she was just making it worse. Maybe she should have phrased it differently, because his jaw was twitching now.  
  
"Why, Summers? Worried I'm going to just snap? Is that it? Not man enough to handle it?"  
  
an almost snarl,  
  
"No. Right. Poor old Spike, hasn't got the stones to deal with torment. Not like..."  
  
She stopped him dead, before it could get out of control. A simple step in front of him to bring him up short, and their gazes were locked, eyes flashing.  
  
"No. That **isn't **what I meant, and you know it."  
  
It was still there. The demon, the thing that was 'beneath her' as he had so eloquently put it, and occasionally he needed her help keeping it in check. Sometimes a look would do it, or sometimes, like now, more was needed. She reached out a hand to him placed it over his heart, felt the tremors subside.  
  
"I'm just...Spike, I just worry about you."  
  
It was what she felt. What she meant, all she meant, but she could feel him respond to her words, a slight pressure against her hand, and she drew back instinctively. Folded her arms. Watching her, he exhaled, dropping the cigarette and grinding it out.   
  
"Well, you needn't be."  
  
He cocked his head, squinted at her through narrowed eyes.   
  
"I'm a big boy remember, can look after myself."  
  
He could disguise a lot of things, but the pain in his voice, she could always hear that. It called out to her like a perfect echo of her own, and sometimes the need to respond to it was almost overwhelming. They were both still so alone. Yet again though, she briskly shook down her emotions. It didn't do any good to think in that way. They were friends now and that worked pretty well, for both of them. Standing under a streetlight a few paces ahead of her, he waited, a mildly annoyed expression on his face.  
  
"You comin'? Freezing my knackers off out here."  
  
Smiling, she bent to pick up her bags and followed him. Yeah. Friends worked pretty good.   
  
  
It was Fall again, and she had always loved walking at night in the Fall. Walking with someone else though, that was a new thing, a recent occurance. But, and she had to admit it, not entirely of the bad. Sometimes when she walked with Spike, they didn't speak at all, and that was just fine by her. She supposed it was what they called a 'companionable silence'. Supposed, because she'd never actually experienced it with anyone else, other than him. Oh, she'd had Afternoon Talkshow Silence with Willow and Hair-brading Silence with Dawn. And once, one memorable summer's evening, she'd achieved Sunset Watching Silence with Xander for all of half an hour, before he'd got bored and suggested they rent '_Fright Night':_ 'for purely research purposes'. But this Companionable Silence deal, that was a new level entirely.   
  
In her mind, she'd always associated it with old married couples, in rockers, on verandahs, with nothing left to say to each other. But it didn't have to be that way. Sometimes, it was just about knowing what the other one was thinking, but choosing not to share it verbally. It could feel...well, comfortable. Now, turning the corner onto Revello she felt a stir of sadness that they were almost home, and that the walk was over. Seeming to echo her sentiments, Spike's sighed heavily, before slowing to a standstill as they reached her porch. Rubbing a hand through his hair, he placed the bags at her feet, and stepped away.  
  
"I won't come in."  
  
She blinked.  
  
"Oh."  
  
It slipped out despite herself, the little sound of surprise, and he grinned crookedly in response. She covered clumsily,  
  
"I mean...not even for pizza? I was going to make it from scratch, hence...the marinara."  
  
"Sorry, pet. Have to be somewhere."  
  
Something about his expression as he said the words, bothered her. A flash of, was that guilt? Something she couldn't entirely put her finger on, but which sparked an old familiar feeling inside. He was hiding something.   
  
"**Important** somewhere?"  
  
She hadn't managed to keep the note of morbid curiosity out of her voice, but he didn't seem to have noticed. Glanced down at his wrist, and since when had the self-styled Anarchist Vampire started wearing **a watch**?  
  
"Yeah. Gotta go."  
  
He retreated a few steps to the front lawn, and she frowned deeply at his back. Yeah, definately hiding something. Opened the door, pushing the first bag inside with her foot, and turned.   
  
"O.K, well...I'll see you at..."  
  
But he was already gone.  
  


* * * * * *  
  


"Maybe he got a job? Did you ever think about that?"  
  
Dawn's mouth set itself in a hard thin line, the ice-cold stare of teenage superiority burning into her back like a laser. Sighing, Buffy finished stacking away the dishes, made with the the J-cloth.  
  
"Maybe he did, but somehow I doubt it."  
  
She glanced at her sister and saw her confidence waver, the flicker of doubt that showed that she still remembered what their friend was capable of.  
  
"In my experience, Spike's secrets are more often than not of the shady crime-related variety. No..."  
  
she frowned, staring at her troubled reflection in the black window pane,  
  
"No...he's up to something."  
  
  
  
Wiping off the marinara-spackled countertops, Dawn dispatched to finish her homework, Buffy found herself dwelling on the question for a little longer. There was no doubt in her mind that the Spike they all knew now was a different person entirely from the vampire of old. 'Coolheaded' was certainly not a word she would have used to describe him in the past, but recently, on more than one occasion he'd been the one to call **her** on a lack of patience. Reeling her in when she went more than a little gung-ho on a Slavhak Demon's ass with a quiet; 'that's enough, don't you think pet?'. It bugged her, in a number of ways, but deeply in just one. She couldn't understand him.  
  
The old Spike may have a been a royal pain in the ass, a murderer, morally ambiguous, frighteningly obsessive, but he had always been...Spike. Strange and familiar at the same time, always surprising but oddly predictable. She had loathed his obvious delight in others' pain, his lust for violence, but at least she had been able to justify it. It was in his nature. These days, the workings of his brain was as mysterious to her as the internal combustion engine.  
  
A soft knock at the window brought her out of her reverie and, dropping her cloth in the sink, she opened the back door. Clem smiled back at her from the step.  
  
"Oh...hi, hi Clem...come in!"  
  
She couldn't hide the surprise in her voice, but the demon's friendly expression seemed unbothered. Grinning apologetically, he shuffled inside, closing the door behind him.  
  
"Dawn asked me to drop by. She's doing a paper on the effects of light on plant growth? I said I'd help."  
  
He shrugged bashfully at her questioning look.  
  
"I was kind of...a Science geek. I mean...when I was a kid."  
  
Stifling a laugh, Buffy stepped aside to switch off the boiling kettle, and after watching her for a second, Clem seated himself companionably at the counter. Fiddling with the cuffs of his raincoat, he cleared his throat.  
  
"So...I...ah...I saw Spike earlier."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
Even to her ears, her voice sounded curiously strained, but Clem simply took the mug she offered him with a grateful smile, and then one of the offered oatmeal cookies.  
  
"Off to his Monday night thing."  
  
She tried not to start, to frown. Spike had a 'Monday night thing'? What could he be doing on a Monday night? What was so **evil** about Monday nights? Without thinking, she tried to add Sweet 'n' Low to Clem's tea as well as her own, and the demon made a small sound of alarm.  
  
"Sorry...I mean...no thanks."  
  
She flinched, steering it way,  
  
"Right. Right. So he was on the way to...to his Monday night thing?"  
  
"Mm hm."  
  
He nodded, sipping at his drink experimentally, and her mind worked. Monday nights, it had to be some kind of regular gig then, cleaning out the takings of bar, or hell...maybe he'd started up a Fight Club...something like that. Clem's voice interruped her, his words spoken in an oddly measured, precise way.  
  
"Yep! Can't remember the last time he sat in on a game. I mean...months! Four, five at least. Always has...his thing now."  
  
he raised his eyebrows knowingly at her,   
  
"You know, on a **Monday **night."  
  
The note of uncertainty was suddenly so clear, she wondered why the hell she hadn't noticed it before. Her eyes zeroed in on the demon's face, and he studied his mug in minute detail.   
  
"Clem?"  
  
He glanced up at her, his skin flushing an even darker shade of pink than usual. She frowned,   
  
"You don't know what he's doing either, do you?"  


  
* * * * * *  
  


Even if it was illegal, it wasn't anything to do with her. That was what she told herself anyway. But if it was dangerous? That was something else entirely. He might get hurt, or dusted, and that would be bad for everyone.  
  
"Why don't you just admit it? You want to know."  
  
Willow's eyes danced with mischievious delight, and darting a warning look at her, Buffy pulled her sideways into an alcove. The music in The Bronze was loud enough to prevent Xander from overhearing, but she wasn't so sure about Anya's supersenses.  
  
"I do, but not because...I mean...yes, he's entitled to a private life I suppose, but I guess I'm just..."  
  
she squirmed, knowing the real answer but unable to admit it,  
  
"....angry he isn't sharing it with you?"  
  
Her friend grinned wickedly, and folding her arms she scowled back at her.  
  
"Did you just read my mind? Because if you did, you are **so** going to suffer."  
  
Willow's raised eyebrow was almost reminiscent of Spike himself.  
  
"Buffy, we've been best friends for eight years. You think I need magic?"  
  
O.K. And now she felt bad.   
  
But it was all right. That was what best friends were for. The making-you-feel bad, and then the immediate forgiving-and-buying-you-brightly-coloured-alcoholic-drinks-with-umbrellas-in. Seated comfortably side by side at the bar now, she shifted the mountain of fruit in her's aside and asked the question straight out.  
  
"So is it wrong? I mean, am I wrong to be suspicious of him?"  
  
Shaking her head, Willow popped a cocktail cherry in her mouth and chewed,  
  
"Mno Buwy, wyo shud totawy subbect hum!"  
  
"What?"  
  
She swallowed, waving a hand apologetically,  
  
"I said, no, you should totally suspect him! Buffy, he's still Spike. He's said it himself a thousand times. Along with the soul, there's still a demon in there."  
  
she shrugged,  
  
"Sometimes we all need a little help staying on the path."  
  


* * * * * *  


  
That had sounded right. Better than her excuse, and far more likely to make Spike mad when he found out she'd been following him. It was for his own good. She was only protecting him from himself. Looking out for him. Acting as his conscience. Yeah. That sounded kinda heroic. More so, anyway, than say throwing herself into a dumpster full of Chinese food in a desperate attempt to avoid being seen by him.  
  
She didn't think he caught sight of her, but she couldn't be sure. One thing was certain, he wouldn't be able to smell her now, not with Kung Pao Chicken covering her scent. Grimacing, she wiped a greasy hand off on her pale suede trousers. God dammit. Just what cruel Fate had given the Slayer of Vampires a weakness for pastels.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Hearing Spike's voice, seemingly directed at her, she almost jumped out of her skin. It only took a second though to realise that he hadn't been speaking to her, but to a swarthy dark-haired demon who was now standing in an open doorway in front of him. Moving silently backwards, she pressed herself against the wall behind a large container and waited, holding her breath.  
  
"Hey man!! How 'you doing?"  
  
Squinting into the darkness, Buffy could see the other one's face now, and it wasn't a pretty sight. His nose seemed to have been pushed upward, into a kind of distorted snout, and then well...just left there. She snorted softly to herself. Who knows, maybe he'd been making that face and the wind had changed.   
  
As she watched, Spike stepped towards him extending a hand, and the other demon clasped it warmly. Buffy frowned. Now, this was just weird. Spike had virtually no friends left in the demon world, thanks to his allegiance with the Scoobies, and he rarely sought out their company. There had to be something he could gain from this creature. Information perhaps? A lead on some underworld evil? She nodded to herself, yeah, that seemed the most likely explanation.  
  
"So you all ready for next week?"  
  
Ready? What were the getting ready for? Feeling her breath hitch in her throat, Buffy strained forward, trying to catch every word, but already Spike was disappearing into the building, his half-hearted laugh sounding hollow, a little nervous.  
  
"Ready as I'll ever be I suppose."  
  
The other demon grunted, slapping a hand hard against his back as he closed the door after them.  
  
"Hey...I guarantee you my friend. You're gonna feel a whole lot different, once you're holding that chip in your hand!"  
  


* * * * * *  


  
"You're sure? I mean...you're completely sure that's what he said?"  
  
The last person she would expect to ever come to Spike's defence, Xander's eyes were wide with disbelief. Looking down at the ground, he shook his head slowly, a deep frown creasing his brown.  
  
"Man...." he muttered, turning round to drop onto the sofa between Willow and Anya, "I was...I mean...I was so sure he was...you know...different now."  
  
Placing a hand gingerly on his back, Anya gave him a small not entirely unaffectionate pat of consolation. She smiled sadly,  
  
"I think we all were."  
  
God, this was so hard. For all of them. The last year had been such a difficult one, no big change there, but Spike had been the one constant throughout. Slowly but surely, he had earned everyones' trust with his bravery and honesty, and even Xander had been heard to admit that, for a vampire, he was 'one hell of a stand-up guy'. To discover something like this now was painful, but what made matters so much worse was that Buffy knew the onus was on her to deal with the situation. The trouble was, she had no idea how to.  
  
"But...hey...I mean..maybe it's not what we're thinking!"  
  
Willow's voice was high-pitched with the effort to convince herself,  
  
"It could be...maybe he feels like he's ready? That he doesn't need the chip anymore...he can..can control himself. And he didn't tell us...because he just wanted to...like...leap out and defend one of us from a bad guy...sort of "SURPRISE!!! I can fight...um...humans now...too"."  
  
She frowned, looking round at them for encouragement. Xander nodded,  
  
"Yeah, Will. I'm thinking the SURPRISE bit? That's pretty much the whole plan."  
  
It was harsh, but it was fair to say they'd all been thinking the same thing. Even Dawn's resolute expression had dissolved into anxiety, her fingers straying to her mouth as she worried her fingernails.  
  
"God...what are we going to do?"  
  
Her jaw firmly set, Buffy sounded as calm and confident as any Guidance Counsellor, her eyes refusing to betray even a hint of a pain in her heart so intense it threatened to break it.  
  
"Simple. I'll ask him straight out and if he lies to me...well, then I'll know."  
  
Anya squinted up at her, her sharp gaze piercing Buffy's armour as easily as it always did, laying the facts out cold.  
  
"That's going to be hard. I mean, what will you do if it's true? If Spike's getting his chip taken out secretly it must mean he wants to kill people again, right? That means...I mean you'll have to..."  
  
She paused, and Buffy thanked her inwardly. Anya had learned a little in her time as a human after all, knew that to state the unspoken fact so baldly, would hurt like hell.  
  
"I mean you''ll have to stake him, won't you? Put him down...like the rabid dog he's evidentally become? Put him out of commission...out of the picture, so to speak. Ki.."  
  
"An? Honey? I think we get the picture."  


  
* * * * * *  


  
All the talk was one thing, actually finding him was quite another.  
  
It had been five days already, and there was still no sign. Ordinarily, it wouldn't have bothered her so much. Spike's visits had been pretty infrequent of late anyway, and it wasn't unusual for him not to be around for up to a week at a time. Usually though, as soon as she started looking for him, she would find him. Almost as if they were connected, he always seemed to know when she needed his help, or sometimes just his company. It was a sixth sense she had come to rely on, a fact which made it doubly disturbing that now, just when it mattered the most, her favourite vampire could not be found.  
  
Turning the corner off Kennedy into Restfield Cemetery, her heart felt heavier than a tombstone in her chest. Spike was obviously in hiding, staying as far away from the Slayer as possible now that his 'big day' was imminent. Probably psyching himself up for a major killing spree, she thought grimly, clutching the stake she held in her hand a fraction tighter. Something she was certainly in the mood for herself.  
  
It was only by coincidence that a vamp suddenly chose that exact moment to spring on her from the shadows. Dusting him without even breaking her stride, Buffy frowned irritably as she slapped his ashes from her white woolen coat.  
  
"Dumb...stupid jerk. I just had this dry-cleaned."  
  
"'Got a loyalty card I hope."   
  
Spike's voice very nearly gave her whiplash, and she saw surprise register on his face at the suddenness of her reaction. He raised his hands with a small frown,  
  
"Sorry Slayer, didn't mean to startle you. Figured you'dve heard me coming, with the supersenses and all."  
  
For some reason, the use of her title instead of her name bothered her. Unable to stop herself, she bit back a retort,  
  
"Believe me Spike, you were the last person I wanted to see tonight."  
  
Perversely, she almost enjoyed seeing the hurt flash across his face but, before it could fully take hold, it had gone. One eyebrow darted upward for an instant and then he sniffed loudly, reached into his pocket for a cigarette before turning to walk away.  
  
"Jesus. If I'd known if was that time of month I'd have stayed in."  
  
If he was trying not to draw attention to himself, he wasn't doing such a good job. Balling her hands into hard fists she marched after him, catching his elbow with more force than she needed to. Surprised he swung round, instinctively shoving her backwards a few steps. She slapped his hand away,  
  
"Don't walk away from me. I have to ask you something."  
  
She knew as the words came out that her tone was all wrong, but suddenly she couldn't hide it any longer. Not from him. The last five days had been like a nightmare, searching every corner of town for him, every seedy bar, all the time her heart telling her how stupid she had been, how wrong. She had trusted him, she had cared about him and...God....yes, she should have known better. Looking at him now, a faintly bored look of exasperation on his face, she felt the anger finally take hold of her and before she knew it, she had pulled back her fist.   
  
Starting backward, Spike's expression changed in a instant. And if she'd thought he'd seemed hurt before, now he looked completely bewildered. Evading her first clumsy punch easily, he ducked to one side, half shielding himself behind a grave stone.  
  
"Jesus, Buffy, I was only kidding! It was a joke, love."  
  
Tears started to her eyes, threatening to spill over, but she held them back, gritted her teeth and went after him again. Only this time she was more focussed, this time he could see immediately that she meant business. Keeping the stone between them, he tried to get her to meet his gaze, cocking his head to one side to avoid the blow that seemed aimed right for it.  
  
"So...you going to tell me what I've done, or just kick the shit out of me?"  
  
Although his words were flippant his voice was anything but, and the pain in her chest increased as she went for him again, feinting first to one side then the other as he dodged her. His eyes shone in the moonlight, a brilliant jet black, as he attempted an echo of his former Big Bad persona,  
  
"Right. Only...let's make it quick? I've got somewhere I have to be."   
  
Somewhere. That's right, he had somewhere to be tonight. Had to be in a dark backalley demon-surgery tonight, having the Iniative's electronic leash cut out of him. A miserable, painful, burning anger dogged her aim again as she struck at him, and her knuckles merely grazed his cheekbone. As he twisted away, her hand finally managed to close around a handful of his t-shirt, and she dragged him around to face her. And sudenly it was over. The big fight was over, and now she would have to...she had to...  
  
Without warning a sob choked out of her, and the sound of it froze him. Slowly, his eyes searching her face, he reached a hand up and gently touched her hip.  
  
"What's happened?"  
  
She gasped, backing off, tried to breath but couldn't. She had to be strong. Had to be the Slayer, had to...her hands came up, wanting to push him back, ward him off but instead fell weakly to rest on his chest, kneading, clutching at him.  
  
"I don't want to..."  
  
she sobbed it out, drew a breath, finally pulled her eyes up to meet his. He looked so sad, so confused and sad, and she felt so completely wretched.  
  
"I don't want...to kill you Spike."  
  
He frowned, his brows knitting,  
  
"Then...don't?"  
  
Miraculously, she laughed, pushing her head forward against him and he caught her arms, steadied her. The sound, almost immediately though, turned into a groan of pain. Oh God. Why couldn't he just have...  
  
"Why couldn't you just leave things as they were?"  
  
His hand tightened almost imperceptibly on her forearm, and suddenly her head felt clear. She found his eyes again and held him there, wanting to know the truth, asking him for it. But all she could see was hurt, hurt and something that looked strangely like shame. Unable to hold her gaze, he looked away.  
  
"You don't know..."  
  
She pulled him back to face her, her lips set in a firm line.  
  
"I don't know what? How hard it's been for you? You think I don't know? I've seen you fighting it every day, you think you can cover it up? Well, I've got news for you Spike, you're not that good an actor!"  
  
Roughly, he dragged himself out of her grip and stepped away. His head was bent, but she could see the raw emotion rippling across his features, the white bone of his knuckles showing through the skin.   
  
"Well, aren't you Miss Jessica Fletcher."  
  
His voice was cold and clipped, devoid of emotion and it chilled her to the core. If she'd had any doubts before, they were gone now. Evidentally, Willow's hopes were in vain. Hardening her aching heart, she folded her arms across her chest and turned to face him.  
  
"So what? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Or did you just think I wouldn't care?"  
  
Moonlight lit his face as he rolled his head back, opened his mouth and laughed, a sharp bitter barking sound. Tailing off into a hollow chuckle, he shook his head,  
  
"Maybe. I mean..I hoped..."  
  
He shook his head again, before fixing her with a look that was almost wry.  
  
"But who are we kidding, eh? It just wasn't meant to be."  
  
So that was it? He was just resigned to being evil? Somewhere deep inside her, a spark of exasperation flared, a flash of anger that he could give up so easily and she moved on him, shoving him backwards with the palms of her hands. Seeming more surprised than alarmed, he backed up against the cemetery wall, half stumbling in his haste to get away. Narrowing her eyes, Buffy grabbed a fistful of his tee-shirt and pushed him back even further.  
  
"So you're trying to tell me that...what? It's just not worth it?"  
  
He frowned, struggling a little,  
  
"Of course it's worth it...I just think..."  
  
"You think what? What Spike? It's too **hard**?"  
  
He rolled his eyes and she almost smacked him then. God damn him for not taking this seriously.  
  
"No. I just mean...what's the point? If mean...if you'll never..."  
  
"What's the point?!! The point is you won't be **evil!** The point is that maybe, just maybe you **won't** go to hell when you eventually die!! The point** is** that I don't want to have to hunt down and kill someone else that I **love**!"  
  
It was one of those moments that, if she'd had a camera, she would have dearly loved to have captured on film. The look of amazement and then the dawning realisation of what she had just said, settled over his features like the autumn mist. He swallowed, eyes already narrowing in the expectation of her denial.  
  
"Did you just say...?"  
  
She paused before nodding hesitantly, taking a small step backwards in a sudden need to increase the distance between their bodies, before folding her arms again.  
  
"Yes...you...asshole! What...you think I don't care about you?"  
  
Slowly, his lips stretched over his teeth in a malevolent grin, the tip of his tongue appearing for a second between them. He peeled himself from the wall, and the movement made her stomach flip, it was so old Spike, so most of the B.S. Narrowed the gap to about two inches, his breath suddenly fluttering against her forehead.  
  
"No. You said...you loved me."  
  
She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, but it didn't matter now she supposed. She'd said it. The deed was done. Hiding was no longer really an issue. She raised her eyes to meet his blue ones with a steady gaze.  
  
"**Yes** I love you."  
  
Watching him, she saw his breath leave his body in a sigh, his eyes close. She thought he looked as if he might laugh, but then a minute passed and she was sure that he wouldn't. Didn't seem as if he wanted to do or say anything. Just stand in front of her, with his eyes tightly closed and a look on his face that was completely impossible to read. She hesitated before reaching up to graze his cheek, her touch as light as a feather.  
  
"Are you...?"  
  
He opened his eyes, frowning deeply at her.  
  
"So excuse me for asking...but what the hell were we just talking about then?"  


  
* * * * * *  
  


"So...Buff? Can't you tell us yet?"  
  
God, Xander could sound so petulant when he wanted to, like a kid wanting sweets at the checkout. Forcing herself not to snap, she turned to him again with a smile so sweet he immediately forgot why he'd wanted to know so badly in the first place.  
  
"No. I can't. You just have to wait and listen."  
  
The hall they were sitting in was filled with a cloud of thick choking grey, a hundred demons or more seated all around them and every one of them seemed to be a smoker. It was hardly surprising that Dawn was finding it hard to breathe. Smiling wanly at her older sister she coughed, covering her mouth with her hand again and looked around.  
  
"Sure are a lot of demons here."  
  
Absently, Buffy nodded, trying to catch a glance of Spike seated a few rows ahead of them. His white-blonde hair was an easy target and, balling up the information sheet on the seat in front of her, she hurled it overarm at the back of his head. He turned, looking faintly annoyed, but when he saw who it was, a smile that made her heart flip in her chest spread itself across his face. She grinned back.  
  
"Awwwww!!!!"  
  
As she turned back to them, her friends' goofy smiles mirrored her own and, trying not to flush bright red again, she admonished them with her sternest look. Willow's face glowed with delight,  
  
"What? I can't be happy for my best friend?"  
  
Over the noisy demonic rumbling, Anya's voice sounded nearly as plaintive as Xander's had. Buffy wondered idly whether she'd lose her patience with both of them very soon.   
  
"Will there be refreshments? I mean...afterwards? Things to eat and drink?"  
  
Several creatures turned round to look and, seeing who had spoken, one of them - a tall sticky looking man with antlers - gave a small wave, which Anya answered dutifully. She looked back at her friends' surprised faces,  
  
"My attorney." she explained.  
  
A ripple of applause that began at the front of the hall, swelled to a crescendo and in a moment everyone was clapping. A few whistled, including them, and the noise level built until it was almost intolerable, the lights dimming to a single spotlight on the stage. Raising his arms for quiet, a green-skinned demon stepped lightly into the circle, and the cheering slowly tailed off.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
A chorus of replies rang out from every corner and the demon bowed his head a little, smiling, as they quietened again.  
  
"Good to see so many of you here again tonight. Lots of familiar faces...and some new ones..."  
  
He craned his head, and all the Scoobies felt a hundred pairs of demon eyes slowly turn their way. Then he laughed, drawing attention back to the stage and they all breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"But everybody's welcome here as I've said before, because everyone here wants the same thing. We're all committed to the same cause, and together..."  
  
he paused for emphasis,  
  
"...that committment makes us strong."  
  
Applause echoed out again, and Buffy felt her palms beginning to get clammy. How much longer was this going to go on? The waiting was making her queasy, well, that and the weak lemon squash...but then suddenly it looked like it was time. Spike was getting to his feet, and making his way slowly to the stage, towards the central podium. Darting a look at Dawn, she jabbed Xander hard in the ribs and he jerked to attention,  
  
"Is this it? Is it Spike now?"  
  
and they watched as the vampire stepped into the spotlight.  
  
  
"Hey. Ah..."  
  
He seemed to falter for a second and Buffy thought she would be sick, sent him all kinds of good vibes that she hoped he would pick up somehow. Searching and finding her face in the crowd, he smiled at her, and then continued.  
  
"Ah...I'm Spike."  
  
A hundred voices answered him, softly in unison.  
  
**"Hi Spike."  
**  
"And...well I guess it's been...just over a year now. Yeah, a whole year,"  
  
he paused,  
  
"...and every day I still think about how it felt to take a life. To kill and to not care. I think about how they tasted, and what they said as they...and it's...well...it's still bloody hard," he stopped and laughing wryly, raised his eyebrows at his audience, "Yeah, well I suppose I don't have to tell you lot that."  
  
A ripple of laughter answered him, and Buffy saw Xander half grin in reply.  
  
"But it'll get easier. It has to."_  
  
_Spike looked down, studying his fingernails, and the sodium spot made his white-blonde hair glow like a flame. He held up his hand, turning something, a flat bright blue disc covered with writing, so it caught the light,  
  
"And now I've got this...I only ever used them for betting with before! But my sponsor...well he's says it's something to be proud of. It says here..." he squinted at the disc, reading the writing, "It says that thanks to D.A I've made it through a year. A whole bloody year and...well...no evil."  
  
Someone cheered at the back and Buffy saw a familiar pink, floppy-skinned arm waved in the air. Spike smiled, and she thought she could see the blue sparkle in his eyes, even from this distance.  
  
"So tonight...I just want to say...thank you."  
  
Nodding thoughtfully, he raised a hand to quiet the applause again, taking in everyone with the gesture.  
  
"I want to say...thank you, for your support. Thank you for making me realise...that I'm not alone, that there are other people, others like me, just trying...every day...not to be evil."   
  
He shrugged, suddenly a little self-conscious,  
  
"Thank you for listening. Thank you for everything," and smiling, he took out his zippo, placed a cigarette in his mouth, lit it.   
  
"And thank you for this poker chip...it means a lot."  
  


**THE END**  
_Thanks to Steve for the idea of 'Demons Anonymous', even though he'll never read this.   
And a big thank you to Tod Carroll - screenwriter - who unwittingly introduced me to the system of rewards associated with Alcoholics Anonymous. Tod man, you rock  
  
  
  
_

  
_  
__  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
_


End file.
